


Magic Spell

by Write_No_Evil



Category: Batman (Comics), Batman - All Media Types, Batman and Robin (Comics)
Genre: Bat Bonding, Bat Family, Batfamily Feels, Bruce is a good dad, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Gen, Magic Spell, Some angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-12
Updated: 2018-05-15
Packaged: 2018-05-26 08:14:42
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 20,022
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6230932
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Write_No_Evil/pseuds/Write_No_Evil
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bruce is hit by a magic spell on patrol which shows him what he had associated the people in his family with. It isn't until later that the effects begin to show. Now Bruce can see his family in an altered way, seeings things on them or around them.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Spell

In all honestly, even Bruce knew it was stupid not to duck the blue light racing towards him. With his limited amount of knowledge on magic, he knew it was a spell. Still he chose to take it chest on. He wanted them to know that Batman could take anything. It would strike fear into everyone, criminal or not. Still, Bruce had to admit, not dodging the spell was a bad move. It didn't really hit him, just went right through him. Bruce looked down to where it had entered him, right through the symbol of the bat on his chest. He brought up a gloved hand and very faintly felt warmth radiate off that spot. The children exclaiming in shock snapped his attention back to them.

"Why isn't he dead?!" A boy asked, looking suddenly scared. Guess taking the spell had struck fear into them.

"Idiot," the only girl of the group hit the boy. "You didn't cast the killing curse on him!"

"Then what did he cast?" Another boy asked. All of them looked confused except for the girl who merely rolled her eyes at them.

"I don't know and I don't care to stick around and find out." With that, she turned on her heel and ran. The group of boys followed her, calling out to her to wait for them. Bruce sprinted after them, throwing a few batarangs at the boys that split into ropes that tied their legs together and made them fall heavily onto the ground. He didn't pause, running onwards to get the girl. She seemed to know the most, maybe she would tell him what the spell was. Bruce rounded the corner, his longer legs gaining quickly on her even though she had a head start. He heard her mumbling something hurriedly. Bruce was fast but even he couldn't run faster than her words. Only people like Superman or the Flash could do that. Before she had spoken all the words needed for the spell, a swirling vortex appeared before her. She finished the spell and threw herself into the portal, it closing before Bruce could jump in after her.

Bruce slowed down, looking at the place she had disappeared with narrowed eyes. Oh how he hated magic. He turned on his heel, his black cape swirling around him, and strode to the Batmobile. He could feel a tingling in his chest like the skin was being pulled tighter. He pushed down the impulse to itch the area and decided to call it a night. It was a miserable night, the clouds sending a fitful downpour of cold rain. On nights like these, crime decreased slightly. Black Bat, Batgirl and Red Robin were all still patrolling Gotham and Nightwing and Robin, though at Wayne Manor, could be sent out if any of them needed backup.

"Penny-one, I'm heading back now," Bruce told Alfred, using his codename.

"It is early, Master Bruce," Alfred noted.

"I'll explain later."

"Then I guess I will go prepare a hot drink, a snack and the medical box." Bruce let his lips twitch at the butler's remark. He approached the Batmobile and jumped in, turning the car in the direction of the Batcave. Alfred was right, it was early for him to finish patrol, and while a part of him wanted to carry on, he knew that Alfred would chew him out when he found out about it. Bruce was stubborn, not stupid; fighting after being hit by an unknown spell was a sure way for him to get badly injured, or worse, killed.

* * *

The Batmobile screeched to a halt in the middle of the Cave, the platform turning so the car faced the direction it had just come from. Brue got out of the car and pulled the cowl down, one hand absentmindedly running through his wild hair, trying to flatten it down. Alfred appeared by his side, a silver tray with a hot drink and a snack in his hands. The butler's eyebrow raised when he noticed the lack of injuries on Bruce.

"I got hit by a spell," Bruce told him, knowing from experience it was easier just to tell the older man what had happened straight away.

"Got hit or didn't dodge, Master Bruce?" Alfred asked. The slight widening of his eyes and tightening of his grip on the tray told Bruce he was shocked and worried.

"I haven't felt any symptoms, just a bit of tingling in the area of impact. Everything seems to be okay." Bruce strode along the Cave until he reached the Batcomputer, his fingers beginning to type in a function. Alfred came to stand next to him, eyes warily taking him in from the side.

"The Batcave records do not hold a lot of information on magic, especially magic spells." Alfred began. "Perhaps it is best for use to call a magic user, such as Doctor Fate or Zatanna."

"I'm feeling alright. I'll sleep it off. If it gets worse tomorrow I'll go to Zatanna," Bruce promised.

"The fact you just said you were going to sleep is cause for alarm," Alfred told him. Bruce smiled at the butler.

"I think I've earned it."

"I think you earned it a long time ago," Alfred spoke to Bruce's retreating back. Bruce chose not to comment on the sorrow in the man's voice. A second pair of footsteps began to echo around the Cave, signalling that Alfred too was moving. "And what happens if you die in your sleep?" Bruce chose not to answer.

* * *

Bright sunlight streaming through the windows and the sounds of birds chirping was what woke Bruce up. He opened his eyes, not feeling tired at all, something that rarely happened. He got out of bed, refreshed from such a long sleep and ambled his way downstairs.

"Good morning Master Bruce. It is nice to see you alive," Alfred greeted Bruce, speaking to him and expertly flipping a pancake simultaneously. The sarcasm hid the worry almost perfectly in his voice. Bruce made a noise and shuffled towards the coffee maker, taking the already brewed liquid and pouring it into a mug. "Master Damian and Master Timothy are both in their bedrooms, one sleeping and the other glued to his computer. Master Dick has awoken and should be down any time now. Miss Cassandra and Miss Stephanie spent the night at Miss Barabara's place. I believe they will come back after twelve at the earliest."

Bruce nodded as Alfred told him where everyone was. He was tempted to ask where Jason was, but he had slowly learnt that if Jason didn't want to be found, then he wouldn't be found. Not even Oracle on the Batcave could find him. Bruce hoped one day Alfred would finish the briefing with the whereabouts of Jason, either in one of his safehouses or at Wayne Manor. He wasn't the only one who missed Jason and wished him to come back.

Footsteps behind him pulled him out of his thoughts. Although Bruce had been around Dick long enough for him to memorise the way he walked, Bruce still turned around. He opened his mouth, about to greet Dick, when his eyes took in the acrobat. The mug fell from Bruce's hand, smashing on the ground but Bruce didn't pay it any attention, too busy focusing on the things behind Dick. No, not behind him, stuck to him. There, taking up the entire doorway, was Dick, with wings on his back.


	2. Angel Wings

"Master Bruce!" Alfred called out, shocked as the mug smashed on the tiles. Bruce could only stare at Dick, or more accurately his wings. Without being fully aware of it, he staggered forward, one hand raised in front of him as if to touch the white wings on his eldest son's back. He paused and withdrew it slightly, centimetres from touching Dick's right wing. He hesitated, wondering if it was real, if his touch would hurt the delicate looking white feathers. If this, if that, so many ifs running through his mind.

"Bruce?" Dick asked softly, blue eyes trained on where his father's hand was frozen in mid-air. Bruce's eyes seemed to gaze at something to the left of him and slightly behind. Puzzled, Dick turned his head without moving his body, trying to look at what had Bruce's attention.

"You... have wings..." Bruce whispered. He finally overcame his hesitation and, with the back of his hand, brushed it over Dick's wings. They were soft, softer than silk, softer than anything Bruce had felt before and they were warm. It surprised Bruce even though it really shouldn't, all birds' wings were warm. Though Dick didn't move, his wing twitched, as Bruce stroked it, jerking out to extend slightly. Now that he was closer he could see how big they were. The tips of his primary feathers trailed along the floor and the arches at the top were wider that Bruce's shoulders.

"It seems we finally have figured out the effects of the spell, Master Bruce."

"Spell? What spell?" Dick asked, looking up at the elderly butler, alarm dancing in his blue eyes.

"Yes. Master Bruce, ever the genius, decided it was best to take a spell head on instead of dodging it." Dick's eyes widened almost comically. He turned to stare at Bruce again, eyebrows tugging into a small frown.

"What are you seeing, Bruce?" He asked softly. To him, it looked like Bruce was stroking thin air.

"You have wings," Bruce muttered distantly, all of his attention on the winged boy in front of him. Bruce blinked and shook his head, snapping out of his daze. He took a step back to properly analyse his son. Now that he had gotten over the shock of seeing him with wings and his eyes weren't drawn to the massive blocks of white on either side of him, he could see a glow surrounding Dick. It was yellow and looked almost like an outline. It faded into a lighter yellow the further the light got away from Dick's body, blurring into nothing. At the top, it seemed to create a circle. 'A halo,' his mind supplied him. Standing before him was his angel son.

"Maybe we should call Zatanna about this," Dick suggested. He hadn't seen Bruce so out of it, and he had seen Bruce take some serious hits to the head.

"I agree that would be the best plan," Alfred spoke. "But first let's have breakfast."

* * *

Throughout the entire breakfast, Bruce kept staring at Dick, noticing the way his wings would flex and move, the feathers twitching and ruffling on their own. When Dick leant back, balancing on the back two legs much to Alfred's chagrin, to stretch his arms, his wings followed, spreading to their impressive 8 metres. It was only once they were fully open, that Bruce saw the tip was about to knock an expensive vase off its table.

"Dick! Watch the vase!" Bruce yelled, throwing his upper body onto the table with his hand out stretched- as if he could catch the vase even though there was a wide table in between him and the vase. Dick's wing knocked it off and, just like the mug earlier, it smashed on the floor.

"Damn it Dick, that was a family heirloom," Bruce growled.

"Langauge Master Bruce," Alfred scowled him, but this time it sounded more out of instinct. Both him and Dick were looking at him strangely.

"What?" Bruce asked, suddenly self-conscious.

"Well, it's just that..." Dick trailed off, not sure how to answer his question.

"Master Dick did not knock the vase off. It is right there, in perfect condition." Alfred gestured to the pedestal that was holding nothing.

"What are you talking about? The remains are on the floor!"

"But I'm not anywhere near the vase!" Dick protested. He quietened when he thought of something. "Did my wing knock it off?"

"Yes."

"I can assure you, Master Bruce, the vase is fine," Alfred looked at him, his usual unreadable face cracking at the edges and showing the concern he felt towards Bruce. "Maybe we should talk to Miss Zatanna as soon as possible."

Bruce stood up and rolled his shoulder. He took his new mug of coffee and headed to the Grandfather clock that was the entrance to the Batcave. Dick and Alfred followed him. Once in the cave, Bruce pulled on his cowl and cape, using the cape to shield his bare chest. A few taps of the keyboard and Zatanna's face popped up on the big screen.

"S'it oot ylrae rof siht," she mumbled, looking and sounding half asleep. When she saw Batman, she sat up. She cleared her throat and spoke, sounding much more alert and in a language they could understand "What can I do for you?"

"I was hit by a spell yesterday," Bruce paused and glared at Dick off screen, who had snorted when he had told her he had been 'hit'. "Today I saw Nightwing with wings. He still has them. And he a glow around him. It ends in a halo over his head."

Dick's eyes widened slightly as he heard the halo detail. He looked over at Alfred who merely raised his eyebrow in return.

"They said they had used the wrong spell and so that was why I didn't die," Bruce told her after a pause, giving her as much information as he could. Zatanna titled her head as she listened to him.

"I can't think off the top of my head what it could be. From what you've told me, it seems to be a spell that alters the way you see people. It may make you see them as something you have linked to them in your subconscious mind, or it could just be a random thing and the spell has changed the way you see them," she reached over to grab something off screen. When her arm came back, she held a book. "I'll read through some of my spell books to see if I can find anything that sounds or looks similar to a killing curse. Seeing as you're still alive several hours after the spell, I can tell you it isn't fatal. It'll probably wear off in a few days, most likely before I can find the counter-spell."

Bruce nodded and ended the call. He turned to face the other two and sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose.

"Well, I guess we can stop worrying about you dying, not like a stupid spell could kill you," Dick joked, his upper lip raised in a small smile.

"This may not be the best time to tell you this, but Master Bruce, you have an appointment in thirty minutes time and you still need to get dressed," Alfred told Bruce.

"I'll go change and then go to work. Hopefully, this can be resolved in the next few hours," Bruce paused for a second and thought out loud. "I wonder if I'll see other people as angels?"

"That is a good point," Dick cocked his head. "What do you see in Alfred?" Bruce stared hard at the butler, but wings didn't sprout from his back, nor did a faint halo appear.

"Nothing."

"Maybe it only works on family members? Though I am only your family through name and not blood. Perhaps you'll see Damian as an angel too."

"Or perhaps, it is best for Master Bruce to not see his family until the spell wears off. We do not know for sure if he'll see you all as angels and I think it is for the best if the others do not find out what Master Bruce's marvellous mind, even if subconscious, has linked them too." Alfred put in. Bruce looked at him and the butler gave him a look that told Bruce he knew what things went on in Bruce's mind. After all, he had diapered Bruce's bottom.

"I don't think they'll know Alf," Dick started but was interrupted by Alfred.

"They were taught by the World's Greatest Detective, Master Dick, of course they will know." Alfred turned to Bruce. "Now go upstairs and change, you have a busy day today sir."


	3. Night Patrol

Bruce pushed himself out from behind the desk he had been working on, rubbing his eyes. How Tim managed to do this day in and day out was a mystery to him. He rose, leaning back until he heard a click from his spine and walked over to the glass windows to look out over Gotham. The sun was setting and people were beginning to head home, knowing it was less safe to be outside at night than in the daytime. Bruce turned back to his office, heading to the bookcase that hid a small room that held his Batman suit and a small computer that was linked up with the Batcomputer. Selecting the book that slid the bookcase to one side, he let it scan his hands. Hearing a small beep, he proceeded to pull it out, stepping back as the bookcase slid open to reveal the entrance.

He walked in, hearing the click as the bookcase slid back into its former position. The lights flickered on and he opened the case that held the Batsuit, taking it out and beginning to put it on. Once suited, he strode to the computer and looked at any reports of crime. A red dot over a jewelry shop told him he was needed. Walking to the stairs that led him to the rooftop, he wondered if it was Catwoman that was committing the crime. The thought of what he would see her as, or if he would, crossed his mind, but he put it to the back of his mind- he had work to do.

Getting to the shop was easy, especially when you used a grappling hook to get around and not a car that would get stuck in the traffic jams. By the time Bruce got there, the robber was gone. He walked in, black cape sliding over the glass-covered floor and raised an eyebrow, Selina would never leave a mess like this. Bruce walked over to a counter, taking note of the smashed counter glass. This wasn't Selina. She stole in a more subtle way, picking the locks and dancing through a maze of lasers. The money was an incentive but it was the thrill that kept bringing her back. Smashing the glass and running wasn't going to give her a thrill.

"Batman to all. The Panther jewelry store in South Gotham has been robbed. Doesn't seem to be Catwoman. Uploading footage from the crime scene." The cameras in the lenses of his cowl sent pictures and videos to computers with the same frequency as the Batcave.

"I'm looking at them now. Cross referencing them to all jewelry robbers in the GPCD database." Barbara's voice came through the comm.

"I'll look at Arkham's and other prisons' bail list and escape list to see if any jewelry thieves have escaped." Tim's voice came a few seconds later, typing following afterwards.

"No need, I'm chasing the robber down as we speak," Dick spoke, panting as he continued pursuing the criminal. A ding alerted Bruce to his gauntlet on his wrist. Pressing the button, a holographic map appeared above, showing a blue circle with Nightwing's insignia in black in the middle chasing the grey circle with an angry face in the middle. Bruce held back the sigh as he realised Tim had once again hacked the system and had drawn an angry face on the criminal dot.

"Nightwing's at Cathedral Square," Barbara spoke, humour lacing her voice as she saw the criminal circle.

"On my way," Batman growled. Shooting a grappling hook at a tall tower, he looked once more at the map, planning how to get there. A black line appeared, curving through the roads and buildings on the map, showing him the quickest way to get to Nightwing. "Thanks Oracle."

Using her way, he soon caught up with Nightwing. The way she had picked allowed him to jump down and land in front of the criminal and block his way. He was about to do just that when he saw Nightwing jump from one rooftop to the next, following the criminal from above. As he travelled through the air, pulling his legs up to his chest to reduce drag, his wings spread out allowing him to glide to the other roof. If it weren't for his body position it would have looked like he was flying. Bruce froze, watching the wings tuck back in when Dick landed on the other roof, going into a roll to reduce his momentum. He rolled back to his feet and continued running, jumping off the railing to the next roof, wings once again spreading out to let him glide to the next roof.

By this time Dick had caught up to the criminal and jumped off the roof, diving head first towards the criminal. Dick's wings spread out, flapping slightly to maneuver himself from falling head first to falling through the air on his stomach, his legs and arms out to reduce his speed. His wings stretched out as well, acting as a parachute, the massive surface area reducing his speed quickly. Before he hit the criminal, he flapped the powerful wings cancelling out his velocity, so when he hit the man, he didn't crash into him with the speed of his fall. The criminal went down, Dick landing on the tips of his finger and toes, fingers above the criminal's shoulder and toes on either side of his hips. His wings gently moved up and down, wafting air down on them and moving both their hair. Dick quickly handcuffed the criminal, taking the bag of stolen goods. He pushed off the ground with his fingertips, standing up gracefully and turned to walk to Batman who was standing in the middle of the alley watching them.

"You know you could have helped," Dick said, a grin on his lips as he notified the police on the whereabouts of the criminal. Bruce's eyes stayed on his wings, extending once more, and shaking slightly, the feathers stretching out before his wings came back to rest behind his back in their natural position. A few feathers fell from his wings, the white long feathers drifting slowly down to the pavement.

"You could fly with them."

"With wha- oh my wings?" Dick rose an eyebrow, the action only just noticeable with his mask on. "You may see me with wings, but I don't B. I can't see, feel, touch or move them. If I tried to 'fly' I would just fall. I can't make my wings flap to keep me airborne."

"They're moving right now." Dick curved his spine, peering over his shoulder to observe if his wings were moving. He didn't see anything.

"What are they doing?" He asked as he walked to Bruce, taking out his grappling hook and surveying the buildings around him, looking for the best place to shoot it.

"They're moving.... like they're restless. They keep opening a bit and the big feathers, the primaries, stretch out, like when you do with your fingers," Bruce spread his fingers apart, showing Dick what his feathers were doing. Bruce sighed, his shoulders moving up and down with the action. Dick smiled at him sympathetically.

"Zatanna says the spell will wear off soon," he placed a hand on Bruce's shoulder, sending him a smile as he shot the hook to a building. "Then you'll be able to see normally again." Bruce watched him go, turning to fire his own grappling hook. He needed to go talk to someone.

* * *

Bruce landed quietly on the Clock Tower, sneaking in through an open window to where he knew Barbara was sitting, staring at her computer screen. Before he could speak, she had turned herself in her wheelchair to face him, folding her arms and raising an eyebrow at him.

"Heard through the grapevine you got hit by a spell?" A smile tugged the right side of her lips up.

"Padon?" Bruce asked, facing looking confused.

"I said, I heard through the grapevine you got hit by a spell," Barbara repeated, raising her voice. Bruce looked at the computers beside her, whirling so loudly they drowned out her voice.

"Can you turn the computers down, they're so loud I can't hear you." Barbara's face scrunched up in confusion and her arms unfolded to wheel herself closer to him.

"Bruce, my computers aren't on," she raised a hand to lightly touch his wrist. "Are you okay?"

"Padon?" The noise coming from them was overwhelming, deafening him.

"The. Computers. Aren't. On." Babara spoke the words slowly, opening her mouth as wide as possible as she spoke them so Bruce could read her lips. The confused look on his face told her he had understood her.

"Then why can I hear them? They're so loud, louder than I've ever heard them," Bruce complained, one hand coming up to cover his ear.

"Maybe it's the spell?" Barbara suggested.

"Dick said it may only affect the people who are legally my family," Bruce pointed put, speaking loudly to be heard over the noise. Barbara winced at his loudness.

"And you're gonna go with the guy who's neither a certified genius nor has a friend who does magic?" Barbara smiled again, wheeling herself back to the tables where the computers were placed, picking up the tablet to read through it. "Speak quieter, I can still hear you normally!" Bruce quickly apologised, Barbara rolling her eyes fondly.

"I thought he was out with Zatanna?" This time, he lowered his voice.

"Bruce, that was over a year ago! And it barely lasted long enough to call it a relationship." Barbara laughed at him. Bruce shook his head and walked over to her, the noise getting even louder as he got closer to her.

"I read up on spells after I heard your predicament. Asked Zatanna to give me some of her books to see if I could do anything. I also looked it up online and used the info on the Batcomputers. From what I've gathered, spells aren't normally this specific. If a magical person wants it to be this specific, they need to know the person they're cursing well enough to know their loved ones. You were hit by a random child. Most likely you'll see everybody differently." Bruce knew she was speaking but he couldn't hear anything, the noise too much. Over the sounds of disks whirling and computers starting up, he could hear the clicks of typing on a keyboard. The noise was beginning to give him a headache.

"What do you see me as?" Barbara asked, shouting it so he could hear it. Bruce only just caught it. He turned to see her, having been too overwhelmed by the noise to look at her. Her green eyes seemed brighter than normal, glowing a green.

"Have you done something to your eyes?" Bruce asked, already knowing the answer. Barbara wasn't the type of girl to change a key sense to look prettier.

"No, why?"

"They seem ..... to glow...." His eyes continued to watch her. He startled when a green line ran down her arm, branching off like lightning as it got to her wrist. Barbara frowned at him as he crossed the room, crouching in front of her and turning her arm so the wrist was facing up. Once again the green flashed down her arm, fading as it ran down her limb. He saw it weaken in its brightness as it travelled further down before another pulsed down her arm, starting at the top of it. He trailed a finger down her arm tracing her veins where they glowed green. Checking the other arm, he saw the same thing happening. The green light faded into green letters and digits, similar to the lines she would write when trying to hack into a target's computer network.

"Bruce?" Barabara breathed, watching him as he knelt in front of her, white lenses following an invisible thing as it travelled down her arm. The whirling that had died down came back with an even greater force, the noise ringing in Bruce's ears. It brought him back and he rose from the oddly intimate position. He took a step back, letting the cloak fall and cover his front. Barbara looked up at him, peering over her glasses.

"What do you see?" Her eyes were bright with curiosity, and Bruce remembered them lighting up when she swung down on an unsuspecting criminal, lighting up when she fought and eventually punched them out. Those actions, being Batgirl, had brought her so much happiness and now she was confined to a wheelchair. Bruce wondered if he would be seeing her as something different if only the Joker hadn't gotten to her. He stopped the sadness from appearing on his face, knowing Barbara could read facial expressions well and didn't like being pitied for being paraplegic.

"You're... the face of the internet..." He withdrew back into the shadows, slinking out of the Clock Tower. Barbara's eyes followed him until the shadows became too deep and swallowed him up. Sometimes even she couldn't tell what he was thinking. Barbara turned back to the laptop screens, turning them on one by one. Now wasn't the time to worry about Bruce. She had to help the others fight crime.


	4. Shadows

Bruce trudged into the Batcave, weary and tired after another night of patrol. Damian was crouched next to Dick, tinkering on his motorcycle. Bruce admired both Dick's wings, the feathers seeming to glow even in the dark damp cave and how they were bonding together. Damian was so different from the boy he had first met. Bruce began typing up his report, fingers dancing along the keyboard when the sound of hooves on hard ground interrupted him. He made a confused face, knowing by now it wasn't Damian's cow's feet. He turned in the chair to look behind him and saw Tim walking into the Cave. He had a tablet in his hand, the white light illuminating the bottom of his face as he tapped on the screen. Behind him, a big black horse was following him.

"Tim, when did you get a horse?" Bruse asked, becoming increasingly confused. The horse made a snorting noise behind Tim and pawed at the ground.

"Horse? What horse? I don't have a horse," he said, looking over to Dick with a look that said 'Bruce has finally lost it.' It was Damian who answered by laughing. When he finished after a few minutes he sneered at Tim.

"It seems my father sees you as a horse in his subconscious."

"You do know he's also my father too,"

"Not by blood."

"At least he knew of my existence."

"Tim, Dami, please," Dick interrupted, his wings fluttering in annoyance. He looked over to Bruce, prompting him to talk to his sons.

"Damian, don't be mean to your brother." It would have been more effective if he had been looking in Damian's general direction. His blue eyes were on Tim, more specifically on the animal behind him. The animal snorted and pounded at the ground, its nose flaring. Suddenly it whinnied and rose onto its hind legs, its front legs kicking the air. Bruce flung himself out of his chair, knowing he wouldn't be able to get to Tim to push him out of the way of the horse in time.

"TIM!! Look out!" He yelled as the horse came down. Instead of hitting Tim though, it landed just a hairsbreadth away from the kid's back, its breath moving the hairs on his neck. Bruce hurriedly moved to Tim.

"What is it?" Tim asked, backing away slightly. The horse didn't copy his movement, instead moved closer to him and nuzzled his back. Tim didn't look like he felt it. Bruce kept his eyes on the black stallion behind his son. "Is it the spell?" He looked put off slightly. "Do you really only see a horse?"

"Ever heard the saying 'the dark horse,'?"

"Yeah, the unknown dark horse wins the race unexpectedly," Tim tells him.

"It's like that," Bruce's hand reached out and began stroking its nose. Its black nostrils flared again. To the rest of the boys, Bruce looked like he was stroking thin air. "Guess you're kinda like that. People underestimate you and it comes as a shock when you win, when it really shouldn't, you're more than a capable fighter." He took another look at the horse. He was close enough to see that its eyes weren't the normal colour. Its iris was red and where the rest of the eyeball should be white, it was black. It snorted as he saw the detail and smoke came out of its nose. The horse rose up again, kicking out and swishing its tail. As the hair swung, sparks of red flew out and when it landed back onto the ground, more red sparks flew out from where the hooves connected on the concrete. Suddenly its mane, tail and the hair around its hooves burst into flames. Bruce moved instinctively back, one hand grabbing Tim's left shoulder and dragging him back with him. The horse snorted again and moved slowly towards them.

"Bruce?" Tim asked as he was crushed to his adoptive father's chest.

"Not a horse. A hell horse," he corrected, moving back. That also made sense, Tim could be fiercely protective of the people who loved.

"Bruce, maybe you should go to sleep?" Tim suggested, gently pushing himself out of Bruce's grip. Bruce resisted but the horse snorted again and he let Tim go. "I'll look through the recordings from the cameras in your cowl and finish up your report."

"I don't know, Tim," Bruce began.

"Go on Bruce," Dick prompted. "We'll hold down the fort." Bruce relented and moved to the stairs to the Manor, hoping that when he woke the next morning the magic spell would have worn off. 

* * *

Bruce signed the next paper and turned it over, reaching for the next paper without even looking for it. He had been working since ten, having gotten up at half nine, the earliest he had ever naturally woken since he had become the Batman. It had to be due to the fact that Tim had sent him up to bed so early. If he listened really carefully, he could hear the distant neighing of the horse. He scanned the words, skimming it at best. When nothing jumped out at him as odd, he signed the line at the bottom and put it on the signed pile. He glanced at the pile of paperwork he still had to do, sighing as it looked like it hadn't shrunk.

The door opened and he looked up. Cass walked in, carrying a tray of food in both hands. She smiled at him and Bruce smiled back, looking back down again. Out of the corner of his eye he caught her closing the door with her hand. His head snapped up as he processed what he had seen. She had been holding the tray with both hands and yet she had closed the door with her hand. He took her in as she walked to him deathly quiet, a tray in front of her stomach as other arms fanned around her. He blinked as he took her in, a weapon in each hand.

"Is... everything o-kay?" She asked, a hand clenching around the bow in its hand, seemingly nervous. Bruce looked at her in surprise, the pen dropping out of his hand and rolling away. He continued to look at her, mind racing to understand. He thought she was Mother Kali, a Hindu Goddess but Cass had more than four arms and wasn't the blue colour that the Goddess was normally portrayed as. Cass' head tilted as she looked at the man in front of her, reading his body language perfectly.

"What... do you... see me... as?"

"I believe you are Durga," Cass' eyebrows drew together as she didn't recognise the word. Bruce gestured her closer and she placed the tray on the table. It had a few snacks, probably Alfred sending her up to give them to him. He went to rotate his computer so she could see it on the other side of the table but she walked around the wooden desk to stand by his side. He typed in Durga into the search bar and clicked the first link, reading it out to Cass.

"Durga is a powerful, even frightening goddess, who fights fiercely in order to restore dharma, moral order yet, while Durga is terrifying to her adversaries, she is full of compassion and love for her devotees. The name “Durga” means “inaccessible”, and she is the personification of the active side of the divine “shakti” energy of Lord Shiva. In fact, she represents the furious powers of all the male Gods and is the ferocious protector of the righteous and destroyer of the evil. Durga is usually portrayed as riding a lion and carrying weapons in her many arms. At times of distress, such as when Mahishasura terrorised the universe, she manifests herself in divine form to protect the world."

"A ... protector.." Cass repeated, a smile pulling at her lips. Bruce opened another tab and searched the internet for images of Durga so he could show Cass what the Goddess looked like. He continued to show and read to her about the Goddess, telling her everything he knew about the Goddess and all about Hinduism, no even caring about the stacks of papers next to him he needed to sign. Spending time with his daughter was much more important than work.

  
That night he went on patrol, the good night of sleep he had had making him feel better and more alert. He swung along the alleys, eyes cast down to see if he could catch any criminal behaviour. Moving bodies caught his attention and he looked closer to find Cass and Tim fighting a gang of males. Tim's demon horse was whining and rearing up, fire flowing instead of hair. It kicked out and sent one the attackers that had been creeping up on Cass into the wall. Red flames shot out as the hooves hit the ground. His eyes shifted from the bucking horse to Cass. She was moving like a dancer, all her arms hitting and striking the men around her, taking them down quicker than ever. Before he could jump in and help them, the last man fell. He watched them high five and smiled at them.

"Good job," he told them. Tim jumped at his voice but Cass just turned and smiled at him, having seen him as she fought the mob. He fired another grappling and swung away. So far, the only person who hadn't been his family but he had seen altered was Barbara but he thought of her as an almost daughter. He manoeuvred around his city for a little while as he tried to puzzle out why he saw her like that, continuing to patrol the streets and listening into his children talking on the comms. Barbara hadn't alerted him to any major crimes and Bruce knew it was probably going to be a quiet night. Batwoman landed behind him on the roof he was on, releasing her grappling and sauntered up to him.

"You sure you should be on duty when you got hit with magic a few days ago?" He didn't need to turn around to know she had a wry smile on her face.

"Batwoman," he greeted.

"Batman," she replied. They stayed standing side by side as they looked out at Gotham City.

"She's quiet tonight."

"You say it like it's a bad thing." Bruce smiled as he brought up his binoculars to scan the streets below him.

"Hoping to punch a few bad guys," she admitted, turning to lean her hip on the little wall in front of them. Bruce felt her looking at him, probably trying to find something wrong with him. When nothing jumped out at her, she turned to survey the city she had sworn to protect. Bruce took that time to sneak a look at her. He startled when he saw she had taken off her cowl. Before he could yell at her for endangering her identity, he saw that her entire Batwoman costume was gone. She was wearing a pale blue dress with a brown cloak, the edges clasped together by a silver circle that had an intricate knotting pattern. Her red hair reached longer than was normal- down to her waist instead of the bob he was used to seeing her with- and was wilder than he remembered it usually was, with more curls too. At her waist hung a sword. She wore brown open sandals with shin guards on them that were similar to the wrist guards on her forearms. She turned to face him and he saw the blue tattoos running across her face. There were two half circles on her forehead, one smaller than the other and both ending at her hair line. There were swirls inside the two circles that connected them together. The blue tattoos swirled along her arms too, wrapping around her bare arms

"Take a picture, it'll last longer," she remarked. The voice was different from her normal one or the one she used as Batwoman, it was deeper and had a Scottish accent in it. She tilted her head as she thought for a second.

"You're seeing things, aren't you?" Bruce nodded. She raised a ginger eyebrow and he explained.

"Ever heard of Boudicca?"

"The Celtic woman who led her people against the Romans?" She asked. Bruce nodded.

"You look just like her. A warrior ready for battle." Kate smirked at that. Her mouth opened a little and her eyebrows raised as she remembered something.

"Oh yeah, Robin's waiting for you at the cathedral. Kid's hoping you'd patrol with him." Bruce nodded and fired a line in the direction of the old building.

"Say hello to Renee. Alfred wants to meet her," he told her as he swung away. Kate smiled and watched him go.

* * *

"Father. What took you so long?" Damian asked sourly. Bruce's lips quirked as he looked at his scowling son, the baby fat on his cheeks making him look more cute than scary. "Oracle has located the Riddler. He is at the Klug warehouse." Bruce nodded and began towards the warehouse.

He kicked open the door and threw in a smoke pellet; he slipped in under the cover of the smoke, Robin by his side and began to fight the men in black. None of them had training like him or Robin and so fell easily. When most of the men had fallen two hulking men walked into the room.

"Take the Riddler," Bruce ordered as his hands reached to his utility belt to grab a taser. Robin nodded and headed to the man. Edward's strength was his intellect, not his physical body and Robin wouldn't have too much trouble taking him on. The fight with the two men in front of him didn't last too long, a few well-aimed punches and kicks taking them down. Damian and the Riddler had been quiet for a while and he turned as he realised it, his cape billowing out. Damian had the man in green pinned down, a katana next to his neck. Before Bruce could order him to put it down, Robin's shadow swirled on the floor. It reappeared but it had white circles where Robin's eye would have been in its head and its hair was much more spiked.

"Go...onnnn," it hissed. When it opened its mouth to speak, it bore its sharp teeth. "Gooo....onnnnn. Killl himmmmmm." It whispered to Damian. It shuddered and then its chest began to move up, as if there were strings pulling it up and out of the ground, turning it 3D. Its head rolled forward as it stood on its feet. The shadow slumped around Robin, its long black arms wrapping around Damian's. "Likkeeee thisss," it whispered into Damian's ear, moving Damian's arm forward. A bead of blood welled up as the blade lightly cut Edward's neck.

"Barbara, where is Robin?" Bruce asked quietly as he looked on.

"Right next to you. Literally a metre in front of you to your right," she told him. Bruce relaxed. If Robin was right next to him, and it was Barbara who had told him and not his own eyes, then the Robin standing in front of him wasn't the real Robin and the Riddler wasn't in danger.

"Killlll himmmm.... may-k yourrr muverr..... proud..." it whispered as it continued to wrap around the young boy's body, more snake-like than human. Bruce was at odds on what to do. It wasn't Damian in front of him but he wasn't sure what to do with the being in front of him who looked real. Before he could decide on what to do though, it was taken out of his hands. The Robin in front of him snarled and threw the sword away.

"NO! I am not a killer. I am Robin." Batman smiled as the crazy shadow Robin began to shrink and left Robin. The small boy turned to look at Batman and smiled up at him. From behind him, on the wall, his shadow appeared, taking up the entire wall even though he was a small boy and the light shouldn't cast his shadow there. His silhouette split in two, one a lighter colour. The two figures shot at each, curling around as they began to fight. One had spiky hair and sharp teeth, looking just like the thing that had been wrapped around Robin whilst the other was more human-like and excluded a faint white glow. The Robin in front of him began to fade away. Even after he had gone, the two figures kept on fighting each other on the wall, the more human one looking like the winner. Bruce turned to where Barbara told him Damian was and saw him. He walked over to him, reaching out his arm to lay his hand on the small boy's shoulder.

"I'm proud of the progress you've made," he told him sincerely. Damian looked surprised but grinned and turned away. Batman followed him as he walked out of the building.


	5. Timeless

Another day, another attempt at trying to put a dent in the massive load of paperwork Bruce had. He sighed heavily as he eyed the mountain of paper he had yet to read and sign. A large, calloused hand massaged his forehead; a sore attempt at starving the migraine that was beginning to appear. Bruce allowed himself a ten-second break, all he could manage with the strict mental time table he had drawn up after seeing just how much work his past self had given him and rubbed his tired eyes with more force than was strictly necessary. He stifled a yawn and cracked his knuckles whilst rolling his shoulders to get rid of any kinks that had formed since he had sat on the chair almost two hours ago. The vigilante then settled down back into his chair readying himself for another crack at the paperwork that lay spread out on the desk in front of him. Before he could even pick up his pen he was interrupted. Blue eyes watched in amazement as the pen began to wobble before rolling off the desk. Everything on the desk began to move as the desk shook. Surveying the room, Bruce saw the paintings on the wall also began to rattle. He stood slowly as he took in the effects of an earthquake. With caution, he made his way out of the room and into the hallway where the shaking was more powerful, the decorations on the walls shaking much more violently.

Going down to the floor below was a hazardous journey. More than once, Bruce was forced to grip the stair bannister or the nearest wall to him to keep his balance. His mind raced at how powerful the earthquake was. His hand had his phone out, opened and on the contact that would call of the Bat Family before he realised he was doing it. Bruce's thumb hovered over the call button. As much as his instincts wanted him to make the call- to warn them about this violent earthquake and make sure they were all alright- he had become accustomed to questioning his reality. The last few days had shown him more than enough times that what he was seeing wasn't what was actually happening.

The vigilante continued down the corridor, coming to an area where several corridors met. He was on top of the stairs and so could look out and see where the corridor running horizontally crossed with the one that ran vertically, morphing into the stairs he was standing on. The shaking was at its strongest here and Bruce stumbled to each side, unable to stand. The air seemed... almost charged. A glance at his forearms, that were exposed as he had rolled up his sleeves, showed that the blacks hairs were standing up. Definitely weird. Before Bruce could make anything of it, Steph ran from into view from the right corridor.

Bruce wasn't sure where to look first. Every time her feet landed on the carpeted floor a large shudder would rake the entire walls. What was more awe inspiring than her seemingly creating the earthquake, was the lightning that was sparking out of her body in random intervals. Her blonde hair seemed even more blonde- more white than yellow, just like the colour of a lighting bolt. He only saw her eyes for a brief second but they weren't her normally baby blue coloured eyes- they were glowing white, with no pupil or iris and little bolts of lightning zapped out. He couldn't do anything other than blink in shock and then blink again in shock at the fact that she had disappeared. Steph wasn't fast enough to cross the twenty metres in a blink of an eye. Bruce stayed where he was, blinking owlishly until Steph backpedalled and jogged backwards into the cross section.

"Bruce?" She called softly, looking up at the man who had gone from being unable to stand up straight to staring but not seeing something. She turned her head to look in the direction he was facing, lightning arcing as her hair flew out. She couldn't see anything and grew more puzzled. The girl turned to look at him and took a step towards him. Steph couldn't help but snort as Bruce stumbled back and landed on his butt. "You okay?" She asked, a smile on her lips as she watched the male struggle to get back up. "Are you drunk?"

"I... I'm fine. Thank you anyway, Steph," Bruce told her.

"Yeahhhhhh...... Say that again when you're not swaying side to side," Steph stayed where she was but looked on with concern at his odd behaviour. "Wait, are you seeing stuff?" The utter surprise had Bruce wincing, did she really not think herself part of this family? Not worthy to be one of them?

"Yeah," Bruce breathed as he watched her. Though the tremors had died down, most likely because Steph wasn't moving, Bruce gripped the bannister as he made his way down the stairs to where she stood. He could smell a faint ozone smell the closer he got to her. Small, white strands of lightning flicked out her eyes as they glowed in an inhuman way.

"What ... do you see me as?" She asked quietly.

"I don't see you as any different," Bruce began. He rushed to continue before Steph got the wrong idea. "You're basically the same... but you have lightning. Maybe you are lightning. It's coming from all over your body and sparks fly when your hair moves." Steph watched as his eyes darted around her face, following something invisible to all but the man in front of her. He reached out to her but hissed and retracted his hand, shaking it like he had been burned as a bolt of lightning had hit him directly on his hand like it was trying to protect Stephanie from him.

"You've... likened me to... lightning?"

"Well, it does make sense. We told you not to wear the Spoiler costume. So you wore a different outfit and continued fighting crime. I guess that's was similar to lightning, we can't control it, only direct it to the ground with tall buildings, just like when we couldn't control you. You found a way to come back even when we told you not to and eventually we helped you to become a hero since you refused to obey us. You're not someone who's easy to contain, just like lightning. And you have the anger that I must have likened to lightning. Your temper is fiery and you don't hold back, no matter who you are up against."

"Okay, I get that," Steph began slowly. "I just don't understand why you were wobbling around like a drunk. man"

"I think I've also paired earthquakes to you. When you were running down this corridor, which you shouldn't do in the first place, you may fall and hurt yourself-" Steph rolled her eyes at his reminder. "- it felt like the Manor was in an earthquake."

"And you're reasoning behind an earthquake?" Steph prompted him, looking a tad lost.

"Earthquakes can be extremely dangerous. People always think that the element earth is only for nurturing people- as it is used to grow crops- but it can still kill people. You nurture people, you're helping to teach Cass how to read and write but you're also not someone to be taken lightly. You are a powerful, determined person and you don't allow anyone to put you down. Someone who'll stand up to anyone-" Bruce's right hand came up to rub his chin as he added. "- And you do have a mean right hook." Steph broke out into a smile and a large bolt of lightning shot from her entire body. It danced along the room, the lights suddenly brightening before the bolt left through the window.

"Aww, that's so nice.. I think," Steph cooed. Bruce turned his attention back to her.

"May I enquire as to why you are here?" Steph snorted at how posh he sounded.

"Here to meet with Cass. Said I'll help her with some reading," Steph beamed at him. "She's coming along real well." Bruce can't help the grin of pride at the praise. He was very pleased with how far Cass had come.

"I do believe she's waiting for you in the library," Bruce told the girl in front of him. Steph beamed at him, the lightning that surrounded her eyes sparking and flaring out into arcs. She turned on her heel, her hair flying out again; Burce just managed to jump out of the way from the lightning that her hair was now seemingly made of. "Don't run!" Bruce called out after her as the female made her way to the library. He noticed, with relief that she slowed down to a fast walk. Bruce sighed and turned to head back into his study, happy that none of the portraits on the walls were swaying anymore.

The tall male stopped in front of his closed study, a hand lingering just above the door knob. As much as the logical part of his brain was demanding him to get into the room and finish the paperwork, Bruce found himself unwilling to sit and read another word. He decided that a longer break was in order so that he could come back refreshed. With a grin, the broad man ambled down the corridor. He wasn't sure where to go but he determined that an aimless stroll would help. The minutes rolled by as he strolled through his mansion. Bruce didn't take much care in where he was going and soon found himself in the East Wing of the building. It was by accident that he stumbled upon Alfred who was busy cleaning. Bruce froze and tried to stealthily tiptoe away from the older man.

"Not so fast, Master Bruce," Alfred called out to him, not deeming it necessary to stop dusting the vase in front of him. Bruce sighed and turned to look at the man.

"How did you know I was there?" He asked.

"I am a ninja, Master Bruce." Bruce huffed at his butler's dry sense of humour. Hearing the noise, Alfred stopped in his cleaning to watch the man next to him chuckle quietly. The butler, unused to hearing Bruce laugh, couldn't help the smile that pulled the right side of his lips up. "May I ask why you are currently down here, instead of doing the paperwork that you have severely neglected?"

"You know how much I hate paperwork, Alfred," Bruce replied, barely keeping his voice from whining. Alfred didn't seem to like his answer.

"Paperwork is what you get when you are the CEO of a big company. You, Master Bruce, are the CEO of several big companies. If you do not want the paperwork, then I suggest that maybe you should get a new CEO." Bruce hummed at the idea, his big hands sliding into his trouser pockets.

"I don't think there's anyone who has the skills needed to take it over from me."

"There is Master Tim," Alfred hesitantly pointed out.

"Tim's got too much on his plate already. I'm not going to let being the CEO take up more of his time, time that he should be using to sleep." Alfred didn't externally express his relief but he was still very happy that Bruce had shot the idea down. Alfred thought that Tim definitely didn't need more work than he already had.

The billionaire watched as his oldest friend proceeded to resume his dusting. His blue eyes trailed over the artefacts that were presented on podiums along the corridor before his eyes glanced out of the large windows to the green lawns that flanked the manor. Bruce's attention was diverted back to Alfred when, in his peripheral vision, he saw the older man move. Bruce startled once his eyes fell back on Alfred. Instead of seeing him in his usual black three piece suit, the butler was now dressed in a Roman general's armour.

"Master Bruce, are you quite okay?" Alfred asked, noticing how Bruce seemed to be staring at him in shock. His hand with the duster twitched and he watched as the man in front of him looked down at the action. Somehow Bruce's eyes became even larger.

"Alfred?" Bruce whispered, eyes locked on the sword that the soldier in front of him, where Alfred should have been, was holding. It was large and glinted maliciously in the sunlight. Bruce brought his eyes up from the sharp tip of the sword, reverting to his detective mindset as he observed the warrior. Although his sword was clean and sharp, most of the uniform seemed to have not had the same treatment. There was dried blood on the hem of the red skirt though the blood stopped before it got to the black armour that the general was wearing, as if he had taken the time to wipe it off yet hadn't bothered cleaning the skirt. There were gold decorations on the chest of the armour, including a bear's head just below the neckline as well what Bruce thought to be a Gryffindor on both rib cages. The gold plating ran along the edges of the chest protection as well as on the shoulder pads and seemed to suggest that the man before him was of a high rank. Other than a few scratches, the protective covering was very well kept and had little damage to it; it was a drastic difference to the under clothes the general wore, the red skirt and brown trousers were bloodied, torn and muddy. Whilst the knee-high boots were also muddy they were in a similar condition to the protective clothing that covered most of his body.

In the opposite hand that held the sword was a helmet; it had black hair that ran along the centre of it. The helmet matched the central armour as it was black, had golden rims to it and a golden bear was situated on its forehead. Bruce let his eyes run up the muscular arm and broad shoulder to the person's face. A battle hardened face stared back at him; the mouth was set in a grim line and his eyes were sharpened in a slight glare as he gazed defiantly into Bruce's eyes as if he was staring him down. A few moments later and the warrior changed to regard Bruce with a wary look, trying to determine if Bruce was a friend or foe. Bruce was unable to detect when he reached his conclusion as he gave no clue in his body language. Though he didn't seem to think of Bruce as an enemy, the hero knew that the fighter in front of him could easily and quickly spring into action and fight him if he gave him the wrong impression.

"Alfred?" Bruce asked again.

"Yes, Master Bruce?" Alfred asked. To Bruce, the voice that spoke to him seemed to be deeper than Alfred's. It was harsh as if the person had been yelling for a large period of time. It also sounded tired like he had been standing on guard and ready for the call to arms for a long time, resigned to his fate of watching more young boys fall in battle.

Alfred didn't say anything else. He knew that Bruce was seeing something due to the spell he had foolishly let hit him and he didn't want to startle the orphan he had basically brought up. For some reason, Bruce was having difficulty believing that the general that stood, battle ready, in front of him was the Alfred he had grown up with. His brain refused to call the general Alfred. Bruce grimaced as he felt the beginning of a migraine and brought his hand, slowly, to knead at his temples and rub his eyes. When his hand dropped down, he was even more surprised to see that the Roman fighter had disappeared and instead there stood a female.

She was pale with ginger hair and red lips; Bruce, more than slightly confused at the fact that Alfred had now turned into a female, could only stare at her. On her head was a crown. It was golden with a cross at the top and adorned with a multitude of red and black jewels. Bruce knew instantly that he was standing in front of a queen, though he was unable to place a name to the monarch. A high white collar covered her neck secured by a gold chain that had red and black rocks embedded in it and Bruce saw the precious gems were also lined along her waist too. The female wore a golden gown with silver patterns on it. The bodice was tight but once the dress got to her hips its puffed out massively. A cloak that matched the design on her dress was draped over her shoulders. The shoulders of it were white with black dots and Bruce spotted that the pattern was also on the inside of the cloak. In her right hand, she held a golden sceptre. It was long and was decorated at the bottom and top by a red and black stone. At the very top though was a large diamond, its sheer size enough that Bruce let out a low whistle at it. In her other hand, she held a blue orb. It had a line of black and red gems as well as a cross that extended above the top of the orb. When Bruce peered closer, he swore he saw green splodges on it, as if she was holding a globe instead of a crown jewel.

Bruce, not knowing what else to do, just scrunched up his eyes and waited a few heartbeats before opening them again. This time he saw Alfred in a green military uniform, one Bruce had never seen before. It looked to be made of a thick material and there was a brown belt around his waist and another one joining it that wrapped around his left shoulder. Both the actual green jacket and the brown belt had many large pockets. Alfred also had brown boots that came to just below his knees. These were extremely muddied, much more than when he had been dressed as a Roman general. Bruce's blue eyes first went to the white helmet that Alfred was now wearing. The rim of the helmet protruded out in a circle along the entire helmet and cast a shadow on his face. Bruce knew it to be a Brodie helmet that many wore in World War One due to Alfred's detailed lessons about the war. The detective rose an eyebrow at the gaunt face that was under the helmet. There were new lines on his face even though the Alfred that he was looking at seemed to only be in his late twenties. He looked haggard as if he had suffered a great hardship and Bruce was worried that he was about to keel over onto the floor. Blue eyes fell next to the white armband on his left upper arm. It had a red cross on it and Bruce knew this time he was seeing Alfred as a World War One medic.

From the previous visions, Bruce knew it was best to wait it out. He took a deep breath and closed his eyes, letting the air slowly leave his lips. When the air was gone he looked back and Alfred had once again changed his outfit. Bruce almost choked at Alfred's new appearance, eyes running other the man. The butler now wore a red coat with white trousers. The red jacket had two thick white lines going from one shoulder to the waist on the opposite side, creating a cross. Once again Alfred held a weapon but this time it was a bayonet. This was probably the easiest for Bruce to determine who Alfred was, he was a British soldier in the American War of Independence.

"Master Bruce?" Alfred began tentatively. He could see the rapture that Bruce was in, he felt like Bruce was going to stare two holes through him and into the wall behind him. Bruce seemed to jerk out of the trance he was in. Alfred watched as he blinked rapidly and shook his head.

"He- hello, Alfred," Bruce replied, licking his lips nervously. Now he was seeing Alfred as a pharaoh of Egypt. He wore no covering on his top half and white skirt rested on his hips, gold threaded through the fabric as well as blue and red blocks that seemed to make a pyramid with a yellow orb above it. Alfred's tanned chest had several gold chains draped over it, the chains matching the golden bands that were on his wrist and the thick one wrapped around his right bicep. He wore a headdress that was striped blue and gold. Bruce moved his gaze to his face. Brown eyes ringed heavily in kohl stared back at him coolly as if he was below him and Bruce felt the need to lower himself to the floor in a bow.

"Master Bruce, please snap out your daze. You have been standing, gaping foolishly at me for the last half hour," Alfred told him, close to snapping. He was becoming increasingly worried at the younger male's behaviour. Thankfully, his statement managed to break through whatever Bruce was seeing as the man jerked in his place.

"I'm sorry if I made you worry, Alfred. It was... I'm not sure how to describe it..." Bruce trailed off.

"Stupid for not ducking a magic spell?" Alfred supplied to him. Bruce laughed at the British man's sarcasm and brought a hand up to rub his eyes, missing Alfred's small sag of relief at Bruce seeming more like himself. When the hero looked at the butler again, Alfred rose an eyebrow to prompt him to explain what he had seen that made him freak out so much.

"I can't really explain it. You were... lots of people from history, reincarnations maybe, in different time periods, a Roman general; a monarch; a fighter in the War of Independence; a war medic; an Egyptian Pharaoh," Bruce listed off. He was confused as to why his subconscious had paired them with Alfred. He looked up at the old man from where his eyes had been staring at the carpet.

"Obviously, you think that I am timeless," Alfred told him with a smile. Bruce grinned back at him. "I think we both would benefit from a cup of tea," Alfred proposed and Bruce eagerly accepted, following the butler down to the kitchen. He kept his eyes trained on the man leading him as he puzzled through what he had seen. Alfred was by far the hardest to explain out of all his visions for the family. The thought that it was because the man had been in his life all the time that he must have had, at some point, thought that the man must have lived many lives seemed childish. Yet Alfred had wisdom that seemed to only come from living several lives. As the two walked down the corridor that would lead them to the kitchen Bruce couldn't help but also think that every version of Alfred reflected parts of him. The Roman warrior showed the fighter in Alfred, both metaphorically and literally as he had been in the Secret Intelligence Service when he had been younger. It also showed his strength, Bruce couldn't even begin to understand how Alfred coped with having almost his entire family out fighting evil supervillains nearly every night. The monarch showed that Alfred was a good leader who offered support to their people and this was also true, Bruce often found himself turning to Alfred in times of hardship for both advice and comfort. The war medic was another metaphorical and literal representation as it showed Alfred's nurturing side as well as the fact that it was almost always Alfred that bandaged his wounds. Him being a British soldier in the US fight for independence showed that Alfred was willing to fight for his country and people. Bruce knew that now, his "people" were those in the Batfamily. Once again this version of him could definitely also be taken literally- he knew that Alfred wouldn't blink an eye at beating someone like Superman up if he threatened the family. The pharaoh was harder to make sense of. Bruce struggled with it, eyes never dropping from the black blazer that Alfred wore; it hit then, since Alfred became a butler he had almost always been looked down on by the socialites that Bruce was forced to hang with. There must have been a part of Bruce, probably when he had been younger and hadn't understood why they had treated his friend in such a rude way, that thought that the roles should be flipped and Alfred should be the one high in status. The man worked too hard for all of them that he deserved to be waited upon instead.

After having tea with Alfred and having an in-depth discussion about his visions, Bruce suited up for patrol. The time had flown by as he had had his chat with his trusted butler and Bruce had been unable to finish his paperwork- something he was inwardly cheerful about. Bruce surveyed the city laid out in front of him. His cape billowed in the wind as he perched on a gargoyle, taking the time to stop and observe the city he had pledged to protect. Bruce was on his own as the rest of the family were patrolling their areas with a partner but he knew that, should they need it, they would call immediately for backup. Alfred and Oracle were both in his ears, relaying any information they deemed important to anyone of them. He had stopped a few small crimes but most of the major criminals were either in Arkham Asylum or Blackgate and weren't causing much trouble.

"Sir, there is some small activity that suggests that the Red Hood is active right now. I am unable to confirm if he is patrolling or... up to his antagonistic ways again." Bruce was trained enough not to let the pained noise leave him as he noted the eager way Alfred had told him that Red Hood was active. He also didn't miss the sad note that the older male took on when he finished the second half of the sentence. Everyone knew that Alfred held a large soft spot for the male and was the only one who had the something close to constant contact with Jason.

Before he could open his mouth to ask where the Red Hood's location was, there was a streak in the top corner of his eye. The way he stood, at an angle, meant that he caught a glimpse of the man rushing past behind him. Years of doing this had his instincts yelling at him to give chase and that was what he did, jumping off the gargoyle and firing his grappling hook. He watched the Red Hood turn his head slightly to the left as he swung past a skyscraper. Bruce knew that Jason had used its reflective mirrors to confirm his suspicion of being followed and had spotted Bruce. He gritted his teeth as the ambush became a pursuit; his gloved hand clenched the gun in his hand as he prepared his body to follow the Red Hood but to his surprise, Jason let his grapple go and landed with a roll, just like he had been taught, on a roof top.

Bruce copied him and waited on one side of the roof. Jason, in the time it had taken Bruce to swing to the building top, had made his way to the other side of the roof. He stared out at the city before turning his head to look over his shoulder at Bruce.

"Well?" He spat. Bruce winced at the hostility.

"Jason," he began but faltered. Even he knew that asking him if he had just done something illegal wasn't the best thing to do. Bruce let his eyes wander along the man, starting with the red helmet that Bruce loathed. Of all the colours to have and he chose the brightest, most eye-catching one of all, to protect his head, which was probably the most important part of his body. How Jason managed to successfully complete any stealth missions was a question he could not answer. Bruce took another breath and brought his eyes back up to his wayward son, about to speak again but stopped when he saw the figure standing next to him.

"What? Cat's got your tongue, old man?" Jason asked. He noticed how Bruce was looking to the side of him and turned to the left. There was nothing next to him. "You ain't seeing things, are you?"

The question informed Bruce that he was probably seeing another vision. He briefly wondered if anyone had told Jason that Bruce had been hit by a spell. His thoughts were wiped clean as the figure became more detailed. They wore a black cloak that had a hood. It covered almost all of their face, leaving only their mouth visible. Their lips were a black colour and seemed to match the small grey skin that was not hidden. Their hair reached to their shoulders and was an off-white colour. It was tangled and when Bruce looked closer, seemed to have mud in it, as if the person had not taken much care of their hair. Their black cloak went all the way down to the ground and though it concealed most of their body, it was unable to hide the noticeable bump around their chest. The person was a female. She stood so she was facing Jason's side and didn't seem to dignify Bruce with a sign she had acknowledged his presence. Bruce was alarmed when both of her thin, skeleton hands reached up; she placed one in the middle of his son's chest, right where the red logo was, and the other hovered over the back of Jason's helmet like she was trying to stroke his hair. It looked almost motherly but the woman was off in a way that Bruce couldn't describe.

"Mine...." she rasped. She turned her head and stared at Bruce, proclaiming, "he'ssss all mine...." Bruce was unsure what to say back to her. This vision was much different to all the other ones he had had. This time Jason's appearance hadn't changed and for a split second, Bruce feared that this wasn't a vision and that Jason was in actual danger. The panic died a little when he remembered that Jason had seemed to look right through her. "You... thought he wassss... yourssss.... but you're wrong..... He never belonged to you... only meeeee......" Her hands clenched around Jason, in an almost possessive manner. "I love him... I love him more than you ever could... I will protect him... I will cherish him... You tried to take him away from meeee... but you can't... he'll alwaysss come back to meee."

"Okayyy, I am really confused right now.... have you been hit by Scarecrow's poison again?" Jason queried. The woman didn't seem to like his concern over Bruce's health, her fists gripping his clothes in an even tighter hold. The action brought Bruce's attention to the large, black claws she had where fingernails should have been. The talons looked more than sharp enough to pierce through Jason's armour to the flesh. Amazingly, there was no ripping sound nor sight of blood dripping from where she clutched at him. The mysterious woman moved, keeping her head gazed towards Bruce, as if to make sure he was watching, as she stood on tiptoes and moved her lips to the side of Jason's helmet. She whispered a few words into his ear that Bruce was unable to make out. Jason seemed to have heard it judging by the way his head jerked to the right. Bruce watched as he seemed to look down at the alleys below them, apprehensively searching for something. He turned and offered a, "gotta go," before he sprinted to the side of the building and leapt off. The figure remained and shot a smirk at Bruce as if to say she had won. A second later and she followed him.

Bruce slowly made his way over to where they had stood, his nose scrunching up as he took in the foul smell. It smelt just like a rotten corpse... Bruce froze as he tried not to gag on the awful odour, his mind racing as he thought about it, trying to vehemently deny it. The woman wore a black cloak that covered her face and body. She had thin arms, that reminded him of a skeleton, greyish hair and her skin had been similar to an ill person. The stench of dead flesh hung around her was the biggest piece of evidence and Bruce turned to look in the direction of where they had left in horror, praying that that figure hadn't been Death.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heyyyy... sooo... long time no see?? Wow, it's been, like, a year? Last posted on Septemeber last year so yep. Whoops. You all deserve to know why I've been absent for almost a year. Well, it all began many, many yea- okay maybe not that long ago. As you may, or may not know, I am from Britain. Now, the British education system has it that everyone, at the end of Year 11 (when we're 15/16) have to do GCSEs, General Certificate of Secondary Education. They changed the way it works a few years ago, so instead of sitting 27 exams over the course of 2 years, allowing multiple resits to occur, I had to do 27 exams in 5 weeks. My school gave us mock exams back in November last year, which helps us to prepare for our actual exams and find where we're weak. That meant that I spent a lot of time in Septemeber and October revising instead of writing. After the mocks were over it was almost Christmas, which would have given me a break to write (and recover) but the stupid government have decided to pursue new courses for all subjects, with our year being the guinea pigs for Maths and English and next year's will have the new course for almost all subjects (meaning that we won't be able to resist as we'll have to learn the new course in, I don't know, a year and they're three year courses) so our school, especially the English teacher's, got really worried for us, whoops I meant our grades, and we had an externally marked mocked after Christmas, so I was busy revising 15 poems and Lord of the Flies for that mock. We then had another English mock this time on Macbeth and the Strange Case of Doctor Jekyll and Mr Hyde. On that day we also had a maths mock so I was busy revising for that as well. That takes us to maybe March?? Afterwards, I would have been revising a lot for my GCSEs. My first one was on the 15th of May (R.E) and my last one was on the 23rd of June (Physics 3). These exams really exhausted me so I spent the rest of that month and most of July recovering. I then went to Trinidad to meet my family I haven't seen for 12 years and didn't write anything there partly due to the socialising and also because I didn't want to take my laptop with me. I got back on like the 28th of August and spent most of my time on Netflix.
> 
> I want to thank all of you. I've read every single comment, all of them making me create a sound like I'm dying and so many people have left kudos. I should be writing again, now that I've started I can't stop, though my laptop is being sooo slow. I want to say that I've not abandoned any of my fics. My Clint Barton fic and the one with Jason being Damian's Dark Angel (is that its title, I've forgotten.) will be my main priorities as I've planned/plotted many future chapters for them. The Clint Barton one and Animals will be pretty long (20+ potentially) so it'll take a while for me to finish them, I'll also be trying to wrap up the other unfinished ones but I'm unsure where to go with Brothers of the League so I'll be staying away from that. I think those are all of the unfinished ones. My plan is to focus on the incomplete fics first and then do some more one shots. I'll also be adding this to other stories/chapter endings so everyone is notified. Again, I am SO sorry that I've basically disappeared from writing for such a long time but I'm back now and, for now, will be writing probably every single day!! I'm not sure when I'll be returning to the other sites I post on and AO3 has kinda taken over my writing so I don't think I'll be making many, if any, reader inserts until I've finished these... non-reader insert? fics. Omg, I'm so happy to be back, I've missed writing. So, to wrap this up, many apologies for not coming quicker, a MASSIVE thank you for your patience and I hope all of you have a great day/night :D


	6. Her

"Death! I associate Jason with Death! Alfred, what the hell am I thinking?" Bruce's voice was close to a yell. His hands were scrunched up into his hair as he paced back and forth in front of the butler, who was sitting in the chair in front of the Batcomputer. Bruce wanted to yell at himself, what father would liken their gifted son to the one thing that was not their fault? Of all the things he could go and associate Jason with, it had to be the most traumatic part of his life. Not his personality; not his skills; not his job but his _death_. He was disgusted with himself if, subconsciously, that was all he really thought of Jason.  
  
"Master Bruce, you must remember the spell is supposed to show you what you have associated us with in your mind."  
  
"But Death, Alfred? What sort of parent thinks that when they see their kid?"  
  
"Master Bruce," Alfred snapped, getting annoyed at the man in front of him. "You seem to have forgotten that Jason has died. It is reasonable to connect Jason with Death. This is your subconscious, no one has control over it. That is why it is called the subconscious."  
  
Bruce didn't seem to like the answer and whirled around to look at Alfred spitting, "Damian's died and I didn't see him with Death!" He stilled his pacing as he saw the look of shock and pain on the older man's face. "Sorry," he muttered, shoulders slumping. The Batcomputer lit up, saving Bruce from whatever Alfred was going to say, white light illuminating the cave the computer received an incoming call. The icon showed a picture of Nightwing.  
  
"You should answer it," Alfred told him. "They are worried. You tell them not an hour into patrol that you have to leave and tell them to continue. They are bound to assume the worst until you explain what really happened."  
  
"It can't be Death," Bruce mumbled to himself.  
  
"And why ever not, Master Bruce?" Alfred asked. The man had come back, rushing in his explanation, and told him that he had seen Death with Jason but hadn't actually explained why he seemed to oppose it.  
  
"Where was Her scythe?"  
  
"I would not know, you were the only one who saw Her," Alfred replied warily, swivelling in his seat to face the computer again to begin to type a message to Dick to tell him not to worry. From behind him, he heard Bruce resume his pacing.  
  
"There's no way it was Death," Bruce told him determinedly. "It doesn't add up."  
  
"And why is that, Master Bruce?" Alfred asked, turning a little in his chair. If Bruce had evidence then maybe he could understand why he was in such a state.  
  
"For starters, where is Her scythe?" Thankfully, Bruce had lost the slightly manic look he had had so Alfred gave him his full attention. Bruce was finally being a cool-headed detective again. "And the way She phrased it... "he's mine" and "you tried to take him away from me". That doesn't make any sense," he turned to Alfred for some recognition but the butler looked confused  
  
"And why would that not make sense? Surely it would, after all, one of the few things that everyone on this planet will go through, is death. Are we not all Death's?"  
  
"True, but She said that I tried to "take him away" from Her. That's not true," Bruce looked away in shame, eyes looking at the Robin suit that was still erected in memory of Jason's death. His hands curled into tight fists and he spoke harshly, "I didn't try and get him back. When Damian died I did everything to get him back- I basically went mad in my pursuit to bring him back. But I didn't do that with Jason- I didn't know that that could happen," Bruce rushed to defend himself. "So why would She say that I tried to take him from Her?"  
  
"That is rather peculiar," Alfred noted.  
  
"And other things in Her speech don't make sense. She said that Jason will always be Hers, that he'll always come back to Her. Why would Jason want to go back to death? As far as I'm concerned, he doesn't want to die anytime soon. And then She said that I was wrong, he never belonged to me but Her," Bruce looked up at Alfred. "Why would I think that Jason belonged to me? And why does She seem so sure that he belongs to Her instead?"  
  
"You said that She told you She would love and cherish him more than you could," Alfred began. "How can Death treasure someone?"  
  
"And there is one other thing that I cannot seem to explain, no matter how hard I try," Bruce began. Alfred rose his eyebrow at the man and he hurried to continue. "I saw that the woman... Death?... She whispered something to Jason and he seemed to have heard it- at the very least he definetly reacted to it. That doesn't seem to make sense, Jason shouldn't have been able to know that She was talking to him. How did he do that?" Alfred looked like he was about to logical answer it and Bruce rushed to reiterate the point. "This spell changes the way I see and hear others. Only I should be affected, only I should see what I have associated with the others. How could Jason have heard Her?"  
  
"That certainly is a mystery, Master Bruce, but, perhaps, the Greatest Detective will be able to solve it," Alfred dryly remarked.  
  
Before he could make a comment to his butler's word, a loud roaring assaulted their ears. They watched as Nightwing screeched to a halt on his bike, barely making sure that it wouldn't fall down before he was marching to them.  
  
"You. Have. Been. Ignoring. All. Our. Calls." The angry man hissed out. Bruce was unable to tear his eyes off of his wings. They were puffed out, showing Dick's aggravation.  
  
"My apologies, Dick." Bruce began.  
  
"No. Not good enough. You take off after confronting Jason, without saying a word to any of us!" Dick threw his hands up to show his anger. "What happened? Something must have spooked you."  
  
"He saw what he associated Master Jason with," Alfred cut in before Bruce could lie to Dick to make him stop worrying. Dick turned his attention to Alfred, prompting him to go on. "He saw Death herself."  
  
Dick's eyes turned to Bruce, anger forgotten, and the older man was pleasantly surprised to see that he wasn't looking at him in an accusing way.  
  
"And?"  
  
"And... well what She said doesn't make any sense," Bruce told him honestly. Bruce saw his son frown at him, no doubt even more confused.  
  
"What did She say?"  
  
"She just told me that Jason was "Hers" and that he had "always been Hers", which makes no sense at all since he was only... " Bruce faltered here as he remembered the time where he had been forced to bury his son. Forced to visit his grave and apologise for being too late, too stupid, too slow. Too many too's. "Jason was only gone for a short while-" he saw Dick's lips press together, a tell he had where he disagreed what was being said but wasn't going to correct them. Bruce hurried to correct himself. "- at least that's what we believe. Jason's spent more time alive, so he couldn't possibly always have been Hers."  
  
"Well, technically, we could all be Death's, it's one of the few things promised in a human's life," Dick pointed out.  
  
"But She said that She would "protect" Jason and that She "loved him", said She would cherish him. Death can't do that- Death just takes and takes and takes. All it leaves is pain and sorrow," Bruce spat out bitterly.  
  
"Master Bruce, do remember that this is just your perception of Jason and Death, we do not know for sure that Death would actually act like this, nor do we know that Death is even real," Alfred butted in from the seat of the Batcomputer.  
  
"Alfie has a point, Bruce."  
  
"She said that I tried to take Jason away from Her... but that's...." Dick lurched forward, wanting to offer comfort to Bruce as he took in his father's heartbroken face. He remained where he stood though and let Bruce continue. "But it's not true- I didn't once try to bring Jason back. I... I'm a failure as a father."  
  
That had Dick springing into action, shooting across the space and throwing his arms around the other man. It was alarming how easily Bruce accepted the embrace, leaning into the other man's affection.  
  
"You are not a bad father, Bruce. Don't ever think that. You made sure that all of us had more than enough training when we first entered this career. You always gave us the chance to get out, always made sure we were equipped with the best gear and clothes, always had enough food and were warm and refused to let us out when we were injured or ill. Don't beat yourself up for these things- Jason's even said he's forgiven you for.... for not getting there in time. You're an amazing father who did his best to teach several wayward, orphan, blue-eyed, black-haired-" Dick was cut off by a polite cough from Alfred. "- what? Isn't it a little suspicious?" Dick wilted under the glare of Alfred, turning back to his father, who he could feel hiding his small grin in the crook of his neck. "- and you helped us grow up. You fed and clothed and gave us the best possible education and helped us through our traumas. We don't say it often but all of us are thankful to have someone like you in our lives."  
  
It took a few heartbeats for Bruce to pull himself together and out of Dick's hold. He sent his eldest child a watery smile and swallowed through the suddenly tight feeling enclosing his throat. Thankfully, Dick was great with social cues and stepped back without saying anything.  
  
"Whilst I hate to break up such a heartwarming scene, Master Bruce, I believe the best way forward is to try and locate Master Jason and talk to him face-to-face, maybe then you'll find some of the answers," Alfred offered. Bruce nodded and stepped up to the computer, his brain beginning to work out possible ways to find his second son. Alfred stood up from the seat, offering it silently to the male, and made his way to the secondary computers, pretending to also locate Jason with them, instead of texting him. Dick watched his father busy himself with the computers, a grey map soon appearing on the wide screen in front of them. As silent as a cat, he made his way to the computer, turning to lean on the edge in a way that had Bruce always telling him off. When no reprimand came his way, Dick frowned and crossed his arms.  
  
"Something is still eating at you." Bruce stopped his typing, which had alarm bells ringing through Dick. Bruce didn't say anything for awhile but Dick, having been with him for so long, knew that he was just trying to word his thoughts.  
  
"It was something that... Jason did that doesn't make sense," Bruce began. Dick tilted his body to face him more, indicating he was listening. "Death whispered something to him and he seemed... to well react to Her. As if he had heard what She had said."  
  
Dick rose his eyebrow at that, "Did you hear what She said?". When he was rewarded with a shake of a head, Dick turned to stare out at the wall opposite to him. "Okay. Makes little sense. These are things that you perceive. None of us should react to them. But Jason did.... why?" Dick pondered, the detective in him mulling through it all. When he came up with nothing he turned back to Bruce, "Maybe you should do what Alfie suggested."  
  
"It would be easier if I could track him down," Bruce gritted out. "When did he become so could at evading us?" He muttered under his breath. Dick peered at what Bruce had managed to find out, using surveillance cameras.  
  
"Try asking Barbs," Dick suggested. Bruce glared at him.  
  
"You think I would be doing this if I knew she could do it quicker?" He asked. "Oracle is amazing at this, much better than I could be in my whole career, but even she's admitted to having problems being able to track Jason down. It was one of the reasons why he managed to get into Gotham as Red Hood at the very start and take down so many drug dealers without either of us noticing. He's good... No, he's great." Dick let his father muse over it, smiling as he saw the small, proud, smile on Bruce's face as he acknowledged both Barabara's and Jason's skills. His smile dropped into a frown though, as he too tried to puzzle it out. Other than Talia teaching him with the League of the Assassins- something that Jason had never explicitly agreed on but they all had seen him use some complicated, League of Assassin-only moves to know they had had a role in his training (and didn't that have Dick's hands rolling into fists)- the only other person with that level of skills was Slade. Dick idly wondered if Jason had ever trained under Slade, remembering his time as the man's unwilling protegee.  
  
Alfred made his way over to them, bringing both out of their thoughts.  
  
"He is currently about to get some Doughnuts at Dustees. He should eat them on the roof above to opposite diner," Alfred told them. Bruce shot up from his seat, one hand reaching up to tug the cowl over his head as he stormed to the Batmobile, slowing only to press a chaste kiss on Alfred's cheek in thanks. He hurried into the car and sped out of the cave, putting his foot down as far as possible in order to get to his son.  
  
"Yes, I know, I am a genius. Please keep the praise to a minimum, Master Dick."

* * *

Jason sat on the edge of the roof, box of doughnuts in his lap and his legs dangling over the edge. To anyone else, it would be frightening how nonchalant he was when he was just inches to falling to his death but Jason had been trained in much more dangerous things than sitting near death.  
  
"So, you want us to come pick you up? Kor'i's ship'll get us to you within minutes- god I love her," Roy mused, beginning to go off topic over his girlfriend's alien technology.  
  
"Seems you love the ship, not her," Jason smiled, licking his lips to get the last of the sugar from his snack off his lips.  
  
"That's not true. I love you too!" Roy complained.  
  
"You love my bank," Jason retorted with a laugh.  
  
"Jay-son truthfully speaks, Roy," Kori spoke before Roy could continue. "But I share Roy's words, Jay-son, we can arrive and retrieve you from your current location."  
  
Jason hummed for a few seconds as he thought it through. As much as he wanted to leave Gotham as quickly as possible- the city made his skin prickle in the worst of ways- he also wanted to acquire the data that had brought him to the city in the first place; it would prove essential to another mission he had in mind. The outlaw wondered why he always came back to this fog-smothered God forsaken city. It was as if some part of him was connected to Gotham and he could never truly leave her- her fangs were too deep in his flesh.  
  
"I should be fine," he replied, bringing another doughnut to his lips. He was beyond thankful that he had allowed Roy to tinker with his helmet and as a result, the front section that covered the very centre of his face could lift up. It allowed him to access his lips (for eating or for kissing, as was Roy's real reason behind it) without struggling with taking the whole thing off.  
  
"You sure? You seem a bit.... off? when you called us," Roy spoke, words slow and deliberate. Jason had called them out of the blue, words rushed and borderline hysterical- a tone that they had heard only a few times when, in his dreams, he yelled out about something called a "Lazarus Pit"- and it had taken a while for them to calm him down.  
  
"Nah, I'm fine now." A 'thank you' rested on his lips but Jason bit it back, still a little off-balanced at how they had managed to pacify him so easily.  
  
"Is your mission going successfully?" Kor'i asked, somehow always knowing when Jason wanted a change of subject.  
  
"I ran into a few.... bumps, but I'm fine now. I'm probably going to head to a safe house and lay low for a while and then continue afterwards." Jason sat for a few moments, vibrant green eyes closed as he listened to his two lovers breathe. "How does Gotham look?"  
  
"No more activity since the last time we checked in," Roy informed, typing a few things to make sure. Before he had come to Gotham, Jason had asked Roy to be his eye in the sky. He had stressed that it was to keep an eye out for the Batman but Roy had taken his "Oracle-duty" extremely serious and had been giving regular updates to Jason about the crime in the areas. The last time had been an almost mugging, near to where Jason had been talking to Batman. At the memory, Jason's face turned into a frown.  
  
"Roy, check Scarecrow's current location."  
  
Four beats passed before the reply, "Locked up in cell A78 in Arkham."  
  
Jason barely contained the flinch at the mention of the prison, hearing a faint, crazy laugh ring in his ears. If Scarecrow was locked up then Batman's weird behaviour couldn't be blamed on that horrible drug. A spark of irritation flamed through Jason as he questioned why he was concerned about Batman. They hadn't been in communication since he went and unintentionally made the Outlaws, but he had hacked into several securities around the world and had discovered that Batman had, on occasion, defended their actions. What left Jason feeling uncomfortably open was the fact, that in the few short months he had been with the Outlaws, they had managed to fix his mental state to a point where he didn't feel a blinding, all-consuming rage towards his extended family. Amazing how much he had healed with the help of two near strangers than the years he had worked, and not worked, with the Batfamily.  
  
"I don't suppose that that "bump" was a Batman? And that that Batman is making his way to you?" Roy asked tentatively. Jason startled in alarm, immediately going back into his Red Hood mindset.  
  
"Where? ETA?"  
  
"Three minutes tops," Roy answered. Jason cursed softly and crammed the last few doughnuts into his jacket pocket- whilst he hated crumbs in his pockets, he detested wasting food. The front visor of his helmet snapped down and he was already halfway across the roof when Kor'i spoke.  
  
"Maybe you should partake in the exchanging of words with him." Jason skidded to a halt, hearing the distinct sound of Roy choking on the energy drink he had made the bad decision of taking a sip of when Kor'i had spoken.  
  
"Why?"  
  
"The eva-dence does not make understanding. You have been on the building top for many telz yet it is only now he makes his advancement?"  
  
"Minutes Kor'i, we're on Earth not Tamaraan," Roy muttered, having finally cleared his throat. Kor'i apologised softly and repeated the word a few times.  
  
"Think it around, Jay-son, why did he not give chase? He is obviously not seeing you as the enemy otherwise he would have attacked. You are curious to know why he was acting strange- asking him would be the best way to gain that knowledge."  
  
"I'm sending the quickest escape route to your helmet, just in case," Roy began, furious tapping following his sentence. A few seconds later and Jason's helmet showed a pop-up that indicated potential ways to flee the area. Jason felt a strange, almost painful, feeling in his chest at how supportive they were. He had yet to tell them everything about his history, including his death or connection to Batman or why Batman seemed to let him off the hook with so much. They hadn't pried, letting him confide in them in his own time. It was a type of trust that Jason hadn't felt towards him in a long time and as a result, choked up didn't really begin to describe what he was feeling.  
  
"Be ready to pull an emergency evac," Jason ordered them. "Keep to the northern border of Gotham and only come to me when I give the word."  
  
He listened to them give him "okay"s and turned to face where he had been sitting, readying himself for what was about to happen. Honestly, he wasn't sure what the outcome would be- Batman may yell at him or arrest him. Jason wasn't sure what was worse. A little, hopeful voice pitched a third option- the Dark Knight inviting him back into the family. Jason snorted immediately at the idea and forcefully pushed it away. Before he could even begin to analyse why that hope refused to budge, Batman was on the roof with him.  
  
Jason pulled all his detective skills together to read the man in front of him's body language. Instead of the intimidating, and frankly dramatic, entrance of him shooting into the air and falling down with his cape billowing out, Batman had simply swung over the ledge. It meant that his intention wasn't to fight- at least not straight away. Both men regarded the other warily, waiting for the first punch to be thrown as it often happened when they met.  
  
"Jason," Batman began, surprising the younger male when he staggered forward as if he had been stabbed. Jason rushed to meet him halfway, arms coming around his adoptive father's stomach to catch him.  
  
"What happened? Are you okay? Are you in-umpf!" Jason let out a pained breath as Batman jerked him into his armour plated chest with a strength that could rival Superman's. Batman continued to clutch the taller male to him.  
  
Eventually, Jason pulled out of the embrace. He didn't like being hugged- it made him feel trapped and he had enough traumatic experiences of being in a claustrophobic hold- but he had lingered with this hug, having forgotten what a father's embrace felt like. Batman took a step back and Jason watched, with the system Roy and he had created to track people's eye movements, as the whites of the cowl spent an eternity checking first him and then the area around him. When Batman began to turn repeated in circles, looking slightly deranged, Jason spoke up.  
  
"What is up with you? You're acting weird- weirder than normal." Batman whirled around to face Jason again, his black cape flaring out at the movement. To Jason's great surprise, Batman reached up to tug the cowl off his face. "Yo, do you think that's a good idea? Anyone could be watching." Jason took a brief look around to see if he could spot any wayward cameras. When he looked back, he was startled at the intense look Bruce was giving him. "I haven't done anything," he bit out defensively, his guard suddenly coming up.  
  
"Oh, Jay," Bruce sighed, his face falling into a tender expression. The sudden tenderness from him was unexpected and Jason once again found himself on guard, not used to this softness being directed to him, and his right hand rested on the handle of a dagger on his hip. For the last few years, the Pit had turned almost everything positive towards him into anger and hurt. The pain of the Batfamily's blunders of how they looked after him, from throwing him into a cell next to his murder's to greeting him with accusations of crimes had left him with a still healing wound and had resulted in his tentative trust towards them.  
  
"My helmet scans are showing an increase cardiac activity- are you sure you're okay?" Jason asked again, eyes slowly taking in the man in front of him. Bruce ran his hand through his black hair desperately, blues eyes landing back on Jason's green eyes. They held the contact for a heartbeat before they were darting off again, searching for something that only he knew of. "Is this about earlier?" Jason asked in a small voice, praying that Bruce wasn't about to start yelling at him. Blue text popped up in the corner of his helmet's vision. 'Do u want us to come get u?'. Jason tipped his head to the left in decline.  
  
"Yes... No... Sort of," Bruce answered, pausing in his turning to take a good look at his son. It wasn't often that he got to see the male so close- Jason rarely stepped foot in the city and it seemed, Bruce thought with pride, that when he did, he was more than skilled enough to evade even Oracle. It seemed like the male had grown again though Bruce wasn't sure if it was in his shoulders or in his general height. His son already stood nearly three inches taller than him and Bruce felt his heart swell with pride especially when he recalled how he could pick up a teen Jason with one hand. Now he would need both hands and his shoulders. Realising that he had let the silence go on for too long, Bruce hurried to explain. "You probably already know, but I was hit by a magic spell that changes the way I perceive things..." Bruce trailed off when he noticed Jason put his hand up to him.  
  
"Wait, what? When did this happen? Where? Why? I thought you were more careful than this." The familiar burn of the Lazarus flared up and, for a few moments, Jason let it consume him. "You preach to us about being careful and then you go and do something stupid."  
  
"You.... you didn't know... about this?" Bruce asked, eyes wide. Jason just rose an eyebrow at him, staring at him like he was an idiot.  
  
"I'm not part of your loop. I don't get any information from you lot," Jason told him. Bruce made a startled motion and crumped in on himself whilst his eyes grew wide.  
  
"But- but how? Your mission in Sabo. How did you get all the data if not from the BatComputers?"  
  
"I gathered the information myself," Jason answered. "But this isn't about me. Do you know who it was? I have a few ties with magic, though they're more spiritual. I can go to the All-Caste for you, if you want."  
  
Bruce looked blankly at his son, not for the first time realising just how much he had missed of Jason's training. Whilst it was partly because Jason had died and then came back to life, the second part without Bruce's knowledge, Bruce refused to accept excuses. He had been in touch with Talia for the last year at least but never once had he asked about Jason's training. He had only thought of Damian's. Bruce regretted it when he drew a blank at the All-Caste. Or the fact that Jason had ties to the magic community. That role had been mainly Dick's.  
  
"It's fine. I spoke about it to Zatanna, she said that it should wear off in a few days."  
  
They stood there facing each other for a few minutes, not sure what to say. The silence was awkward and hung heavily on them. Jason shifted, tensing when he saw how Bruce's eyes immediately darted to the action. He took a deep breath and reminded himself that it was human instinct to stare at sudden movements. He licked his lips, hesitating for a second before forcing himself to continue.  
  
"What do you... what do you see...see me as?" Jason hoped that Bruce wouldn't pick up on the slight quiver in his voice.  
  
"That... was why I came to you." It was the wrong thing to say. Immediately Jason reared back, all his defences slamming back up as he staggered away from Bruce, the constant dull static in his ears turning into an overpowering ringing.  
  
"You.... you see .... see me as.... as a....a monster, don't you?" Jason whimpered, voice cracking at the words.  
  
"Jason, we're coming to get you!" Roy yelled through the comms, but Jason was unable to hear it through the Lazarus Pit's effects, eyes tunnelling to see the only man who had been a real father to him.  
  
The father, in turn, could only watch in shock as a black mist swirled around Jason before it solidified. She grinned at him and it was then that Bruce realised that Her teeth were an ugly yellow colour, mostly chipped and with a few fangs that rested on Her thin, black lips. Once again She was facing Jaosn's left side, a hand on the centre of his chest but this time Her talons were lightly tracing along the red sign.  
  
"Miiiiiinnnneee," She sang, voice raspy as if it hadn't been used for a long time. "Alwaaaaaysssss miiiiiine."  
  
"Why won't you look at me? Am I that disgusting? Can you not even bear to look at me? A crazed murderer," Jason spat, a black hole forming in his stomach.  
  
"It's... It's not you, Jason. It's... Her," Bruce whispered, eyes not leaving the leering woman. Jason whipped his eyes to where Bruce was looking but couldn't see anything.  
  
"Who's 'Her'?"  
  
Bruce staggered forward, still staring at the empty space next to Jason.  
  
"She's who I wanted to talk about," Bruce breathed, finally tearing his eyes off of the woman to stare into Jason's electric green eyes. Eyes that weren't what he had buried his son with. "When we were on the rooftop earlier, She spoke to you. What did She say?"  
  
Jason could only look quizzically at Bruce, "No one had spoken to me at all. I've been all one my own since I got to Gotham. The only two people I've spoken to are.... oh."  
  
"What?" Bruce asked, eyes flicking to glare at the woman in the black cloak- he refused to call Her Death. A large part of him wanted to rip Her hand off of his son.  
  
"Arsenal and StarFire have been on the Comms. He told me about a mugging earlier, it was why I had to leave before we could fight." A part of Bruce died at Jason's last words. Why couldn't he have a nice, full conversation with his second oldest son?  
  
"So... She didn't say anything to you?"  
  
Jason threw him an insulted look. "No. How am I supposed to know what She's saying if you're the only one who can see Her?" Jason paused a few seconds before continuing with hopefulness that had Bruce's heart shattering again. "So, you don't see me as a monster?"  
  
"Oh, Jay, I could never see you as a monster." Bruce reached out cautiously, knowing that Jason could be fussy with his personal space. Thankfully, Jason let him run his hand through his thick black hair, eyes sliding close and letting himself lean slightly into the gesture.  
  
"So, who is She then?" Jason murmured, his eyes fluttering open and detective brain beginning to race.  
  
"I don't know, son."  
  
"World's Greatest Detective and he can't figure out one woman?" Jason sassed, lips stretched in a small smile.  
  
"NOOO! He's miiiiineeee. Doooo..... not... touch himmmm." The woman swatted Her hand down onto Bruce's, the man only just being fast enough to dodge Her talons as he jumped back. The woman laughed, it coming out in a broken hiss and grinned at Bruce, Her fingers once again tracing down Jason's chest. The action had Bruce's eyes snapping to them and for a second he was transported to how his mother had run her hands along his chest to console him when his dog had died.  
  
"There a reason why you jumped like I electrocuted you?" Jason asked. Bruce was able to hear the underlining uncertainty that Jason thought it was his fault.  
  
"No. It was Her, it seems She doesn't want me to touch you," Bruce rushed to reassure his son, glaring at the woman who just cackled at him. Bruce furrowed his brows and tore his eyes from Her to ask Jason a question that had been bugging him. "Do you know what time you were notified of the crime?"  
  
It took a few seconds for Jason to understand the question. When he did, he brought a hand to the side of his helmet and began to access his records. "Ten thirty-nine, why?"  
  
"That... That was the moment She whispered to you," Bruce breathed, eyes never leaving Jason's as his mind began to whirl with the possibilities.  
  
"You're... you're telling me... that She was the one who told me about the mugging?" Jason asked.  
  
"This doesn't make any sense, why would She tell you about a mugging of all things? Did it get lethal at any point?"  
  
"No, it was like any normal mugging. How does that tie into this?" The question reminded Bruce he had yet to tell Jason what the magic spell made him see. Bruce licked his lips in nervousness, stomach plummeting.  
  
"I think... I think I see Death for you..." Bruce bit his lip and watched to see Jason react. The younger male looked like he had been slapped in the face. The father lurched forward to comfort him but Jason put a hand up to ward him off. Immediately, the woman bellowed and flung Her own skinny arm out towards Bruce. A black sludge followed the arc and hurtled towards Bruce. The man tensed, whipping his cloak around so it would land on that instead of him. However, it didn't hit him but stayed there, a wall in between him and his son.  
  
"Okay... Okay, I can deal with that," Jason whispered, hand lowering as he processed the new information. A second later and the black wall turned into a slimy puddle, allowing Bruce to see his son again.  
  
"Jason.... I'm sorry." It felt like all he was doing was apologising and being unable to articulate his thoughts.  
  
"No. It's fine. My death has always been my defining feature," Jason spat, breaking Bruce's heart. "Of course that'll be what you see."  
  
"I... don't think that may be the case," Bruce admitted slowly, not wanting to bring his son's hopes up too soon. Jason's head lifted from where it had been staring unseeingly at the tarmac. There was a slight glare on his face, most likely from how unguarded he felt. "If the mugging was deadly, then it would make sense that... _Death_... would tell you about it. But if it wasn't lethal, then how did She know about it? And why did She tell you it? And for that matter, how could you have heard it?"  
  
Jason bit his lip as he turned to look at the city he had once sworn to protect.  
  
"It doesn't make sense," Bruce muttered to himself. "What part of the puzzle am I missing?"  
  
Jason ignored him, eyes gazing out to watch the lights shine around Gotham. A part of him had thought she was beautiful, in a way that only a Gothamite could say. She was old and harrowed and broken, with yellow teeth and dead eyes yet there was strength in her skeleton arms and a stubbornness that refused to let anyone leave her.  
  
" _My city comes to me in its own white plane._  
_It lies down in front of me, docile as paper;_  
_I comb its hair and love its shining eyes._  
_My city takes me dancing through the city_  
_of walls_."  
  
Bruce froze as he heard Jason whisper.  
  
"What?"  
  
"Huh? Oh, it's Émigrée by Carol Rumens."  
  
"No. Not that," Bruce strode to Jason, a new frenzy in his eyes that had Jason eyeing him warily. Bruce grabbed his arms, snarling as the woman once again tried to stop the contact. "I think I know who She is. She's not Death... She's... Gotham."  
  
The woman hissed at Bruce, hands clenching even tighter around Jason's bicep. To say it was weird watching Her harm Jason whilst he didn't react, was an understatement.  
  
"I... don't understand," Jason spoke slowly, trying to piece everything together. "Not Death... but Gotham?"  
  
"It makes sense. What She whispered in your ear, it wasn't Her but Arsenal updating you on the crime in Gotham. I saw it as Her telling you it because of course the city would know about a crime going on in itself, of course _She_ would know about the mugging. And you keep coming back to the city-"  
  
"-Not because I want to. I do it to get information," Jason interjected.  
  
"You keep coming back to Gotham, even if you don't want to. She keeps calling you back. Everyone knows that no one can truly escape Gotham. Jason, I took you from the streets of Gotham but you grew up in the heart of the city, seeing all her colours. God knows that you have complained enough times for me, and the rest of the family, to realise that you are the best with Gotham, you understand it, _her_ , better than anyone else. You were born here and saw both the best and worst of her. You are a child of Gotham, more than myself or Dick." Bruce took a pause from his rant to shift his gaze to the woman next to his son, eyes raking down Her figure in a critical way. "It explains why she stinks like dead bodies- it's Gotham Harbour. And why she's so skinny and ill-looking, it's from all the drugs in the city. She's old and pessimistic and possessive and a hag. She said that you were hers, that I tried to take you away from her, and I did. When I adopted you and brought you into my lifestyle."  
  
Jason looked up at him, licking his lips as he thought through what he was going to say. "So, not Death?"  
  
"No. Never. I think of a thousand other things before I think of your death when I'm reflecting on you."  
 Bruce gave Jason a small smile, not able to begin to express all the many, positive, emotions he felt towards his second oldest son.  
  
"Thanks, dad," Jason whispered, giving Bruce a half smile. Before Bruce could reply to him, or maybe try and hug him again to show how proud he was of Jason, the overbearingly loud noise of a ship hovering near them broke the silence. Bruce took the time to watch Jason lift his head up, a full smile breaking on his face as he recognised the ship, the wind rustling his hair. Jason looked back at Bruce and gave him a smile and a two-fingered salute. "Guess this is my ride."  
  
"Jason!" Bruce yelled out, catching the boy's attention.  
  
_We miss you._  
  
_We love you._

 _I love you_.  
  
_You're always welcome here._  
  
_Please come back to the Manor._  
  
"Good luck."

* * *

A few hours later and Bruce was perched on Jason's favourite gargoyle. He had already sent a request to Oracle to delete all footage around the area he had spoken to Jason in. Even now, he wasn't mad that he had de-cowled himself in plain sight. Talking to Jason without throwing fists or angry words was worth a thousand times more than his identity being revealed. Bruce watched over the city, a small lull in crime allowing him the chance to take a chance to survey the city. In some way, he could see why Jason had loved the city when he was Robin. Underneath the grime and smoke, there was an unwavering hope.  
  
"He's not mine, he's made the abundently clear," Bruce spoke, hands tightening to fists as he glared at the city below him. "But he's not yours either."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi guys. Once again, long time no see... or update. I've been busy with A Levels but nows my tests are over so I should be able to get back to writing. I'm going to finish all my WIPs, don't worry, and I think I'll add one new chapter to each uncompleted story and rotate through them (this isn't, however, set in stone). Just know that I will be finishing all unfinished stories.  
> Also, I know that StarFire can kiss a person and learn the language but I think that's stupid and wanted to write her with an alien accent. The poem Jason spoke is called Émigrée by Carol Rumens.

**Author's Note:**

> None of these characters belong to me, DC Comics own them all.


End file.
